Mystery Meat
by Disasteriffic Kaz
Summary: No substance here, just some Wee!Chester fluff. John leaves the boys with Bobby again and Dean makes a disturbing discovery.


**Title:** Mystery Meat

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info:** No substance here, just some Wee!Chester fluff. John leaves the boys with Bobby again and Dean makes a disturbing discovery.

**Author's Note:** This little piece of fluffy nothing popped in my head while I was making a sandwich. Lol Just some ridiculous cuteness to cleanse the palate between stories.

**Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P**

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Bobby stood at his kitchen counter putting together a sandwich. He sliced off thick hunks of liverwurst and smirked listening to Sam and Dean rough housing out in the yard. For years he'd passed the stuff as 'mystery meat' and they loved it, John's boys. Sam was a precocious seven year old now and Dean…He shook his head. Dean, at eleven, had finally thought to look at the package in the fridge and read it. His freak out had been memorable with accusations of Bobby trying to poison them and little Sam standing beside his big brother with that same accusatory look. He snorted, remembering the scene. He'd reminded them both that they loved the stuff up until they knew what it was but Dean was adamant and so Sam was adamant.

He finished his sandwich and sat at the table, sighing wistfully. He'd enjoyed sharing these with them. Bobby took a bite and looked up in surprise at the small sniff from the door. Sam stood there watching him. "Hey, Sammy."

Sam ducked his head and came into the kitchen. He climbed up onto the chair next to Bobby and leaned in against the older man's arm, looking at his sandwich.

"Uncle Bobby?" Sam said in a small voice.

Bobby waited him out, figuring he knew where this was going and did his best to smother the smirk.

"I think…maybe…I don't really mind that it's liver…stuff." Sam said finally. In truth he missed them and all of them sitting in the kitchen and laughing. He just wouldn't tell Dean, maybe, not right away.

Bobby chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around the boy, pulling him in. "That's my boy." He took half his sandwich and handed it to him, enjoying the toothy grin Sam turned up to him as he took it.

Sam opened wide and took a big bite and then froze staring at the door. His big brother was suddenly standing there staring at him and Sam couldn't move. He wondered if Dean would be mad at him for changing his mind so he sat there with the offending sandwich hanging in his mouth and waited for his verdict.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his kid brother and shuffled into the room. He avoided Bobby's gaze and dropped into the chair across from them. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the table for a moment.

"Dean." Bobby watched the boy and gave Sam a nudge before he suffocated himself with the sandwich stuffed in his face. "Somethin' you wanna say, son?"

Dean nodded. He hadn't planned on Sam being there too but dammit…"Uncle Bobby. How about we go back to calling it mystery meat and you make me one?"

Bobby ran his hand over his face to cover the laugh. He nodded finally and stood. "You boys beat all." He muttered. He ruffled Sam's shaggy hair and went to the fridge, pulling out the stuff he needed. "Idjits." He said fondly.

Sam smiled when Dean looked up at him finally and then checked over his shoulder. Seeing the older Hunter with his back to them; Sam snagged the pickle off his plate and passed it under the table to his brother. Dean grinned and took it. He'd raised it to his mouth when Bobby spoke.

"You know I got eyes in the back of my head, son." Bobby growled. He turned and sent a mock glare to both boys' wide eyes. Where Sam had the grace to look flustered for being caught, Dean's grin only widened and he crunched into the pickle.

"S'good pickle." Dean smiled and chewed, unrepentant.

Bobby raised his brows and crossed his arms, fixing Dean with a slow smile. "Too bad that aint a pickle."

"Huh?" Dean lowered it to look at it, frowning. "Looks like one. What is it then?" He looked up.

"Sea slug." Bobby said in a dead pan and threw his head back laughing as Dean spewed pickle bits across the table. Sam bounced up and down in his seat with laughter.

"You ate a slug!" Sam pointed at his brother's red face.

"Gonna kick your…" Dean spat more bits onto the table. "ass you little…" He resorted to wiping his tongue off with his fingers and glared as Bobby cried with laughter. "Little slug, Sammy!"

Bobby wheezed in a breath and rolled his eyes. "Oh put a cork in it, Dean." He went over and cuffed the back of the boy's head lightly. "You're so damn easy sometimes." He ruffled his hand through Dean's spikes, snorting another laugh when he jerked his head away. "It is a pickle you idjit." He grinned when Dean stared up at him in surprise and then anger. "Now. Clean up the table or you aint getting' a sandwich."

Sam chortled in his chair as Dean scraped bits of pickle into a pile. "Dean ate a sea slug. Dean ate a sea slug." He sing-songed.

Dean tossed the pickle pieces at him. "You are a sea slug, midget."

"You smell like one." Sam threw back and bit into his sandwich again as Bobby set a fresh one in front of his brother. He stuck his tongue out.

"You know someone hits you on the back of the head your face'll freeze that way." Dean informed him and grinned at the suddenly fearful look.

"Liar." Sam decided finally and stuck his tongue out again.

Bobby lightly smacked the back of Sam's head, making him gasp and Dean laugh. "Shuddup and eat, boys." He sat back down beside Sam, grinning cheerfully.

Sam whipped a hand up to his face fearfully and finally sighed. "Knew you were lyin'."

"Did not." Dean kicked his foot under the table.

"Did too." Sam kicked him back and reached across the table stealing Dean's pickle from his plate.

"Hey!" Dean lunged to catch his brother's arm and missed as Sam slid from his chair to the floor with a thump and ran from the kitchen holding the pickle over his head like a trophy. "That's it." Dean nodded to Bobby and took a bit of his sandwich. "Gotta go beat, Sammy. Don't toss my sandwich."

Bobby shook his head and laughed as Dean spun out of the chair after his squealing brother and outside. One of the phones beside the table rang and he answered it, still chuckling. "Singer."

"Bobby." John's voice greeted him. "Need a little intel on fire demons here." John paused, hearing a distinctive screech in the background. "Should I ask how the boys are?"

"Oh they'll be back in for lunch soon as Dean's done beatin' Sammy." Bobby snorted. "The usual. Fire demon huh?"

"Why's he beating Sammy? Wait." John rolled his eyes. "I don't wanna know." He chuckled softly as Dean's voice carried through the phone softly. "Fire demon's a guess. Something's torching people here."

"Not…the one you're lookin' for?" Bobby asked, suddenly serious.

"No." John sighed. "Not that one. Thought it might be but no."

"I'll do some digging for ya." Bobby told him and rose from the table.

"So, lunch?" John smiled as he heard his giggling son's voices come closer to the phone. "Mystery meat day?"

Bobby laughed and ducked out of the way as Dean returned with Sam tossed over his shoulder kicking. "Yeah. We'll save ya one. Dean, put your little brother down and eat yer damn lunch."

"Yessir." Dean however kept Sam over his shoulder as he tramped into the kitchen.

"You wanna talk to 'em?" Bobby asked John.

"Naw, not now." John said quickly. "Let them play. I'll call later after I have a line on this thing. Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby rolled his eyes and hung up as the line clicked dead. "Oh for cryin'…Dean!" Bobby stalked back into the kitchen where Dean was working at getting his brother's head into the refrigerator. "Knock it off."

Dean snorted and dropped his squirming burden back to his feet. He wrapped Sam in a headlock and pulled him back to the table. "Yessir."

"Deeeean!" Sam whined and finally succeeded in pulling his head loose. "Wanna eat now."

Bobby watched them settle back in their chairs and attack the sandwiches with gusto and smiled. Maybe next week he'd tell them what kind of meat was really in his chili. He snorted as the boys started tossing pieces of pickle at each other. "Maybe not."

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_The End. _


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